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Safe at last. The entire town of Whoville coming together to make themselves heard by the giants in the sky world of Nool. It warmed the mayor's heart to see all of the citizens cooperating during what would certainly be remembered as Whoville's darkest hour.
And it had worked. Chanting 'We are here', the resulting ruckus, his son's magnificent creation, and the final yopp. All working in tandem and they were heard. The town celebrated, the muffled voices of those in Nool ring down the drain pipe and out of the horn. Most importantly, to Mayor Ned at least, his son Jojo, the smallest Who of all, was talking again.
As the celebration and cheers slowly die down, the crowd below begins to gradually disperse. That was more than enough excitement and fear to last a lifetime, maybe even for several generations. And there were still the Whocentennial plans and preparations to finish. Mayor Ned leans back and rests against the railing of the balcony overlooking the town square. It felt like a massive weight was finally off his shoulders. Other than a few lingering Whos below, his only company now was his wife Sally and son Jojo.
Sally turns to Ned, “Are you staying here?”
He nods, “Yes, until Horton puts us down in that safe spot on Mt. Nool. I need to see this through for the sake of everyone in Whoville.”
“Jojo?” she turns to look at their son next.
Jojo looks up to her then walks over to Ned and hops up onto the lower ledge of the banister, “I’m… going to stay here with Dad.” He then looks up to him, “If that’s alright.”
“Of course!” Ned answers enthusiastically. He was overjoyed that Jojo was finally wanting to spend time with him instead of having to chase his son down or hope they passed in a hallway.
Sally smiles, “Alright then. I’ll see you both when you get home.” She turns on her heel and makes her exit as well.
Jojo turns around and looks back over Whoville once more. Off in the distance his mighty creation was beginning to decrescendo, one by one the various instruments slowly fell silent once more. The large pair of bass drums continue their rhythmic beating, they would be the last to rest. Ned turns and leans against the railing to be more at Jojo’s height. “It’s a wonderful sight, isn't it, son.”
“It was almost gone,” Jojo notes, “All of Whoville was almost destroyed.”
“And you saved it,” Ned speaks with pride in his voice causing Jojo to smile at him once more, “Why, you’re perfect Mayor material.”
That last line hurt and made Jojo recoil. His smile fades and hides back behind a frown. The small black and white who turns to face away from his dad and puffs a breath of air to blow his black hair out of his face again. More talk of being mayor, great. He should have expected this.
Ned flinches, quickly realizing he may have said the wrong thing. Years he had waited and longed to see that smile once again grace Jojo’s face. And in just one line, he accidently erased it. He balls one light brown hand in front of his face and his brown eyes dart around for something. Anything! Something to ensure that Jojo wouldn’t be silent towards him anymore. Looking out to the observatory and idea quickly forms. With a grin, Ned loops one arm around Jojo’s back and places it on his shoulder, “That instrument of yours. What’s it called?”
Jojo turns to look up as his father once more then over to the observatory, “It’s… a symphonophone.”
“And you built it,” Ned inquiries, “all on your own? How long did that take?”
Jojo twists his hands against the railing and looks down at them, “Yeah…,” he finally answers then looks up at Ned, “Do you like it?”
Ned smiles, "Like it? Son, It’s brilliant!" He removes his hand from Jojo's shoulder with a flourish, "You’re so clever to have even thought of it. I could never have done that!” Jojo’s smile returns. Okay, good. He hadn’t fully chased it off.
“It took me years to make,” Jojo speaks trying to not sound overjoyed, “I built it from scratch. Just... various parts and some junk I found. I could hear the music coming from each and every piece that I used. It took a long time to have it sound anywhere close to that symphony it made.” Jojo looks back over to it, “I’m really proud of how it sounded. It was perfect.”
Ned looks at his son amazed, “Smart, crafty, and clever. You’re better with music than I would ever have a chance at.” Jojo looks away as his face suddenly warms from embarrassment. It was nice to hear his father finally recognize and praise his accomplishment and passion. “Why the Star Study Tower, Jojo?” Ned ponders next, “It’s been abandoned for as long as I can remember. The road to it is just about rotted away.”
Jojo looks back to him, “I… um,” now was as good a time as any to fess up, “I’ve been sneaking out at night.”
“What?” Ned asks him while looking horrified, how had he never noticed. Had he really been so blind.
“Yeah,” Jojo continues, now worried what his father would think, “I found and fixed the old balance contraption. And got the slingshot working again. The observatory was abandoned and empty when I found it. It was hollow and filled with dusty notes and furniture. It…." finally being able to talk so easily to his father after so many years. It was nice. So, Jojo was careful to pick his words, "It started as somewhere to go in order to be alone. And let me figure out what I wanted to be. One day I decided to test the acoustics. And that's when the idea for the symphonophone came to me.” He pauses and studies his father’s face. Ned wasn’t mad, in fact, he seemed to be enjoying the story. Jojo clears his throat and continues, “That’s when I started to work. I… I was so… so happy," his smile felt so oddly natural now in comparison to that scowl he used to wear, "Happy with the music I was making, that I sang, and I played.”
“Jojo,” Ned suddenly speaks in a more serious tone, “Is that why you wouldn’t talk for so long?” He saw that shimmering spark of delight in his son’s eyes as he spoke about his music. Making music, it had brought so much joy to his son. It was another thing in a now long growing list that he hadn’t seen from Jojo in quite some time, “Did…,” Ned swallows, “Did I pressure you too much?”
Jojo recoils and lowers his head, shoving both hands into his pockets. A long pause and the tension grew uneasy. “I didn’t want to disappoint you,” the teeanger finally admits. The distant drumming finally comes to a rest. The symphony was finally finished, “I felt like I had found my place. Working on the symphonophone and making those songs. It… it called to me nothing else ever has before.”
Ned drops to one knee and pulls Jojo to him in a tight hug and surprises the teenaged who. How embarrassing, Jojo pushes against his father’s shoulders in an attempt to get free, “Dad!” He hisses, afraid someone would see.
“I couldn’t be prouder of you, Jojo,” Ned speaks. Jojo stops his struggle and shifts his eyes to his dad, “You saved us all. I owe you my life, and the lives of our entire family and town.” Ned releases Jojo from his hold and smiles proudly at him, “Your music saved us all. How could I ever be disappointed in that.”
Jojo had to say it and dropped his gaze again, “Because I prefer my music over being mayor. I would rather have it, than be responsible for Whoville.”
It felt like a white hot knife stabbed Ned straight in the heart. The mayor returns to his feet and takes a step back with one hand holding his mayoral crest. He had been a terrible father indeed to have not seen it. To not have given his teenage son the guidance he desperately needed. Ned had to think on how to broach this subject, he needed to stall out for just a few moments. He takes a step back towards his son while occasionally catching his son's quick glances, “Jojo,” Ned starts tentatively, “Your symphonone. Did… did you know about Nool?”
Jojo raises one eyebrow and gives Ned his full attention once more with a rather perplexed look. That was a drastic change in subjects, “No, of course not,” he pulls his hands from his pockets, “The dusty notes I found in the observatory didn’t mention it either. They only talked about the stars we see at night. The doctor who ran the observatory had a theory that something was out there. But, in a journal I found, apparently he ran out of funding and had to abandon the observatory and his research. I took everything I found to the library if you want to see them.”
“Oh,” Ned answers, “So I was the first to make contact.” Next he asks, "I guess you thought I was crazy as well, huh? Invisible elephants in the sky. Whoville just a speck on a clover. I must have sounded like a mad man."
“The whole town thought you cracked,” Jojo points out, “Well, until that catastrophic quake.”
Too soon, Ned still hadn’t thought of how to say it, “Jojo, if you don’t mind me asking. When you ran from the square to the observatory, did you know the symphonophone would work and let us be heard?”
Jojo shakes his head, “No. It still needed a few final touches. I wasn’t planning on playing it until the Whocentennial. But when you needed us to be louder, it was the only thing I could think of that would do it." He looks at the observatory, then back to his dad, "I was actually really scared. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want mom, or you, and or any of my sisters, or anyone in Whoville to die. It sounds silly now actually. After it didn’t work, and…," he was embarrassed to admit it, "and hearing you say I was the best son you could ever have,” a warm smile crosses Jojo’s face again. He wanted to remember that line for all of eternity, “I knew I just had to try something. Anything for us to be heard. And then my ‘yopp’ worked. Hearing the crowd cheer and celebrate. It was a wonderful feeling.”
“Cheer and celebrate for us,” Ned emphasizes. “Jojo, your music brought all of Whoville so much hope, it rallied their efforts to keep going. You and your music protected us, saved us.”
“Which is why I can’t be mayor,” Jojo notes, “Whoville needs my music and I need time for it.”
“Which is why you can be a musical mayor,” Ned corrects him.
“What?” Jojo questions confused, “A… musical mayor?” He hadn’t considered it. Not once had he thought about it. Combining his passion with something so dull and mundane, “How would that work? The council won’t let it.”
Ned grins, “After today, oh yes they will. Think about it Jojo. All across Whoville your wonderful music plays, easily alerting every who of the good and the bad. Your symphonophone plays out across the land. Why, I bet somewhere in that brilliant mind of yours you could figure out how to precisely aim your music and songs to each part of town. And craft each and every one of them harmoniously so.”
Jojo furrows his brow in anger, “Dad, are you nuts!? Do you even hear yourself when you talk?” he gestures out over Whoville, “To do that and have it all work like you claim I would-,” Jojo turns and trots onto a high point of the balcony. He climbs onto the highest point of the balcony and looks down and around, “I would need,” he crosses his arms in thought, one hand under his chin and he taps his left foot, “Miles of brass pipe. Pulleys to make bells chimes. Several more wind bladders. Railing for rubber band ball tracks so they can reach their appointed drums. It would contain thousands of moving parts that would all need to work in perfect harmony. Or it would shatter apart.” Jojo turns back to his dad, “Not to mention updated blueprints of Whoville. Doing something like that? It would take years!”
“But it’s possible?” Ned questions.
Jojo grins at the challenge, “Absolutely. But conducting such an orchestra. Expanding my symphonophone, maybe a means to activate it remotely.” Jojo’s mind flies into a flurry. All of Whoville an orchestra, creating a glorious symphony with him as the conductor. With him as the, the thought instantly fills him with dread, as the mayor. He steps off the platform and backs to the middle of the balcony and the small who forces himself to banish the swirling fear.
Although now silent, Jojo hears the glorious melody of his elaborate symphonophone. Its harmonious chorus, the rhythmic beat of the large drums, each and every moving part all working in perfect, glorious, musical unison. He could see the kites flying high making the saw blade violins play, hear the cymbals crash to the beat, the great marble cascade. With everything working, every part working, the appearance of chaos produces such a powerful and commanding melody. His symphony.
But using it for protecting all of Whoville. Keeping the peace and making sure it stays in place for the next many hundreds of years. It would indeed be a crowning achievement for the history books. And to be able still to continue working on, and perfecting his music.
Jojo couldn’t believe it. After all these years of resisting it. Silently groaning at his father’s ranting of the greats and of him being the next mayor. Tuning out that overhyped glory of paperwork and parades. Forcing himself to be mute in order to avoid this very conversation they were now having. Was he, now after avoiding, no, preventing a calamity, was he now seriously considering it? Jojo looks at his dad, standing patiently and ready to listen.
He walks back to him and steps back up onto the rail support again, “Dad,” he pauses for a moment stunned that he was considering it, “do… do you really think… you really think I could be a… a,” Jojo couldn’t believe he was continuing to entertain the idea, “musical mayor?”
Ned nods, “Yes, truly I do. That is,” the words tasted bitter but for the sake of his son they needed to be spoken, “If you, well, want to be the mayor, that is.” He steels himself, ready for a final rejection. If Jojo, his oldest child and only son declined his birthright once more. Then so be it. He had pressured him enough. Over pressured actually the more Ned thought about it, “It is your choice. Your future. And no matter the answer, you will always be the best son I could ask for. Your father is forever proud of you.” He hoped that was enough reassurance. At the end of everything, Ned reached a conclusion, he just wanted Jojo to continue to talk to him.
“My choice?” Jojo questions, “You’re letting me choose?” His father nods. Jojo couldn’t believe it. The escape he had been looking for, longing for. Freedom! And it was, strangely, no longer appealing.
“Yes,” his father answers, “As it should have been. From the very start.” Ned had just joined his ancestral lineage of greats. But right now was not the time for him as mayor to emphasize tradition. Right now, he was a father ready to fight for his son to be happy. He breathes deeply, “I want you to be certain. I want you to be positive. I want to be happy no matter which future you choose. So, no more pressure.” Ned briefly chokes but forces the words out, “If you decide against it. I promise, no more talk of being mayor.”
Jojo stares at his dad in shock and disbelief, “You’re serious?” Ned nods. Jojo questions again, "You mean it?” Another nod. Jojo cranes his neck around the balcony and peers into the mayor’s office. This couldn’t be a real conversation they were having, “Is there a camera somewhere? Does my dad have an identical twin I don’t know about? Is this a prank?”
“No, no, no!” Ned answers flustered, “I’m being sincere! Music is your calling and vitality important to you. I can see that clearly now, Jojo. You,” he takes a deep breath, briefly wondering if his son was enjoying tormenting his old man like this, “You don’t have to be mayor.”
Jojo grabs his upper arm and slowly rubs it as he drops his gaze once more. This was a lot to process. He looks at the observatory and his slumbering symphonophone. Next, he places both hands on the banister and hoists himself up to look across Whoville. Here it was. Clear and plain as day. Freedom served to him on a silver platter. Just one phrase, six words and it would all be over. He could be with his passion. Creating music instead. This offer, it was something so succulently sweet. The very thing he wanted for so long. But those six words, resting in the back of his throat having long awaited such a prime opportunity to be spoken. Why now do they taste so horribly bitter? It frustrated the young who, why couldn’t he say them. Was this long awaited no escape no longer appealing!
The small who swivels his head and stares into the mayor’s office. He could see his father clearly sitting in place. A seat that his birthright demanded that he should one day take. Jojo blinks and for the first time sees himself in there instead. Being of small stature, he stands on the chair instead to see over the desk. He wears a conductor's outfit that matches the black and white of his own fur coat and the mayoral crest sewn into the left breast pocket. On the table a music box plays a sweet song; it was an object of his own making. Other instruments scatter around the room with music stands holding sheets. It wasn’t dull paperwork he scrawls on but a music sheet instead. Something he was intending to perfect and perform at the next public gathering.
The fur on his neck bristles, don’t think that! Jojo then looks back at Star Study Tower, home to his symphonophone. That was his calling and haven instead, back with his symphonophone which silently awaited its master.. Alone he could work without distraction. Perfecting and expanding his masterpiece. So many sleepless nights he’s spent there, Jojo could see his titanic instrument in his mind all too easily. It was there that he found his passion, his calling, his purpose in life. To make his music, it brought him such great delight. Up on that hill, away from Whoville, one day that’s where he would go, it would be his home. Crafting each and everyone of his melodies. The music he wrote scattered about as he perfects the timing of every last moving part. The symphonophone was his pride, his joy, it was thanks to it that his musical mind was finally being appreciated. He couldn’t abandon it. In order to be mayor, he would have to do just that.
Or would he? Jojo swivels his head back to the office. Just because he was mayor, didn’t mean his symphonophone would go unattended. No matter what happened, Jojo made sure, he promised to himself a thrice weekly visit. To perform any repairs and to have it play even if it was only to him. To add or adjust each part, and all great things would forever need tuning. He could do so as mayor, he could hear the entire town cheer as he sits at the top of the observatory. Maybe fly back to this building by kite, wouldn’t that be a sight.
He faces back to the observatory. But not having such duties would make his life, his future so immensely easier. He would still have the admiration of Whoville. No matter what. He could keep them safe with his music. It could work. One of his sisters could easily take the reins of their father’s career. One out of ninety-seven, Jojo knew he wasn’t needed. Then why couldn’t erase that mental image of himself as mayor. Why did he like it!? Take your freedom. Your father, at long last, was giving you this chance. Throw off the burden of your birthright, let someone else have it.
Shaking his head, Jojo chases away the squabbling manifestations. This was his future. It was now his choice. And it suddenly became a lot harder of a choice to make. Lifting his head, he looks out to stare over town square and at the far off horizon. In the sunset, his future suddenly becomes crystal clear. Jojo knew what he wanted, and it was what he needed to do. Ready with an answer, determination fills his body to the brink.
Ned frowns. his son had been silent for several minutes. Part of him had hoped for a quick answer even if it was rejection, “Do you want more time to think?”
Jojo spins around and walks back to his father, “I-”
“Mayor!” Horton’s friendly, upbeat voice rings down the horn with a metallic note. Ned and Jojo both jump and turn to the horn, “We’re here,” Horton continues while sounding both jovial and sad, “We’re at Mt. Nool. Whoville, and all of the whos will be safe here.” The two whos look at each and then back up to the horn. They knew he didn’t mean it and couldn’t have known but Horton had ruined a moment. “Mayor?” Horton questions, “Are you there?”
Ned looks back to his son and quickly gestures an apology. Jojo shrugs with a smile and nods his head at the horn. The mayor turns and speaks into it, “Yes, I’m here. Thank you, Horton. I don’t know how I can ever repay you, for everything you’ve done for us.”
“Ah, don’t sweat it,” Horton answers, “But, do you mind if I come by. And we just, I don’t know, talk from time to time? It’s been great to have another friend to talk with.”
“Of course!” Ned answers happily, “If you didn’t, I’d start to worry about you.”
“Gee,” Horton replies, they could almost hear his embarrassment, “I don’t know how often it’ll be, but I’ll come by,” a sigh is heard, ”Well, goodbye, Mayor.”
“Goodbye, Horton,” Ned answers. A gentle breeze blows through Whoville and the infinite spiral of clouds finally disperses. The soft pink sky shifts back to blue once more. Whoville was safe. Mayor Ned, after a long and arduous two days can finally breathe easy.
The mayor looks back to his son, “What were you going to say?”
“I….” Jojo gives a short laugh. He had a brave and bold speech all at the ready. But Horton’s final goodbye had erased it. He shakes his head and stands back up the railing and closer to his dad’s height but is still about a head short, “I guess you get used to people, or in this case elephants, interrupting you as mayor.”
Ned chuckles, “It’s annoying for sure.”
Jojo smiles, “Maybe as a musical mayor, I can just blast a horn in their ear.”
They share a laugh. Ned’s face suddenly lights up as what his son had spoken clicks into place, “Wait… are you saying...?” He looks at his son and is greeted with a warm smile.
Jojo inhales and readies himself once more, “I’m the next mayor of Whoville. Jojo McDodd a musical mayor.” He smirks and hops off the railing and back into the office with a casual tone in his voice, “Have to admit, it does have a nice ring to it.”
Ned could barely contain himself as he races after his son, “Jojo! That’s fantastic! Wait. And, you mean it, right?” He questions, “That’s the truth? You’re not trying to pull a fast one on me are you?”
“I’ve made my choice, Dad,” Jojo answers with determination, “It took a lot of thought. And now I know what my future is. With my music, I can keep us all safe. It’ll take time but I can certainly get a grand orchestra in place and conduct this town in the manner of my greatest symphony. Whoville and its protection will one day be my responsibility. Even with all that paperwork and parades you blather about, my music will not go unheard. I'll make sure of it."
Unable to contain himself, Ned jumps around the office and cheers, much to his son’s embarrassment, “I’ll get started, first thing tomorrow! Oh this is going to be great!”